


Let Me Be Your Home

by ckret2



Series: Writing Warmups (daily page-long drabbles) [7]
Category: Godzilla (2014), Godzilla - All Media Types, Godzilla: King of The Monsters (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Broken Bones, Drabble, Gijinka, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Smut, or a few drabbles idk it's short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckret2/pseuds/ckret2
Summary: "You can’t stop me.""I'm not trying to stop you! But you can’t fight the whole world, Ghidorah—you need allies. You need somewhere to call home.”





	Let Me Be Your Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the prompt: "So talented writer, any thoughts on a smut fic?? Pretty please? ((And can you possibly do it in gijinka style? Or perhaps anthro if you will))"
> 
> I was like “okay if I’m gonna do a gijinka verse I’ve gotta like, _explain _it, I’ve gotta at least _imply _the worldbuilding and setting, I can’t just _jump in,_ I’ve gotta _set it up—_” And then uh I accidentally wrote a whole story just with that without getting to the smut. So I did a DOUBLE LENGTH writing warmup and the smut actually happens in the second one.
> 
> "So what’s going on in this AU?” idk some kinda cyberpunky bullshit Ghidorah’s some kind of product of a supersoldier program it starts out with a fight scene enjoy. I’m putting the read more between page 1 and page 2.

Rodan slammed them against the cinderblock wall so hard they snarled in pain; and he couldn’t shake the feeling that the only reason he’d managed to pin Ghidorah—a head taller than him and ten times the warrior he’d ever be—was because they’d let him. And he wasn’t sure whether that was a surrender or a trap. 

"You’ve got to stop this," Rodan pled. "They're going to kill you if you don't." Ghidorah laughed at him, bitter and morose—he could feel their ribcage flexing with their laughter, their chest rubbing against the wound on his—and he saw the blood on their teeth. Rodan leaned harder into them, keeping their unbroken arm pinned and pressing his other arm tighter against their throat to stop their laughter. "Maybe _you _don't care!" He was beginning to fear that was the case, that what he'd taken so long as Ghidorah's reckless malicious courage was actually a death wish. "But _I _do! I don't—" Of all the times to get a lump in his throat. "I don't want to lose you!" 

"You can't save me," they hissed, sneering down at him, a mad glint in their squinted eyes. "This is what I was made for. This is all I _can _do. I fight. I kill. That's all. _You can't stop me._" 

Rodan drew his arm back from Ghidorah's throat, but only to shove it back into their collarbone and knock their head into the wall. "I'm not trying to stop you from fighting!" 

The pained smirk vanished; their eyes shot wide open. "What?" 

"I know that fighting is part of you. It's the most _beautiful _part of you. It's what I love about you!" His voice dropped to a whisper, as though afraid they'd be listened to: "But you've got to be _careful._ You've got to _choose _your targets. You can't fight the whole world, Ghidorah—you need allies. You need somewhere to call home." _Let me be your home._

For a moment, they could only stare at him. Then something behind their eyes shifted, like a crack appearing in a dam, and their face lit up in some sort of terrified hope. Rodan thought he saw their eyes begin water, just before they bent forward to press their forehead to his and their bloody lips to his. 

They had let him stop them. They _did _want to be saved. 

He kissed them back. 

Without noticing, he'd loosened his grip on their pinned arm; and in a matter of a couple of seconds, they ran their hand through his hair, clenched a fist in it, jerked his head to the side, spun him around, slammed his back to the wall, seized one of his hands to place it firmly on their ass, and kissed him hard again. 

Rodan had to turn his head to escape the kiss long enough to ask, "What? What are we…?" Not that he was upset about the development—it was a very toned ass—but he _was _very confused. 

They switched to kissing his jawline. He swallowed hard. Their cheek was damp when it pressed to his. They hissed into his ear, voice raw and desperate, "We've waited too long." 

And it was true. They'd had to fight not to let their hands linger when they'd sparred where others could watch; they'd stripped on opposite ends of empty locker rooms without saying a word, without breaking eye contact, and left flustered from more than training; they'd simultaneously touched themselves on separate bunk bed levels and silently taken turns going to the shower without looking at each other. Ghidorah had given Rodan a hand job against the rusty chainlink fence holding back the jungle the night before they'd run away to start their mass-murdering terrorist rampage. They'd never gone farther. Rodan had always felt Ghidorah was holding themself at arm's length from everyone, including him. But if they were coming back now—coming _home…_

Ghidorah's good hand slid through the tear they'd left in Rodan's shirt before they'd both lost their weapons; Rodan hissed as they brushed the edge of his wound. "Hell of a time for it." Their pain tolerance had to be absolutely superhuman. 

"Would you have it any other way?" Their teeth grazed his earlobe, teasing with his ruby stud. "I wouldn't." 

"Me neither." 

They tore his shirt further, leaving his torso exposed from mid-chest down, while he fumbled to unbuckle their belt. They removed their weight from him just long enough to tug one leg out of their pants; even though Ghidorah was only working with one arm, Rodan only managed to get his pants around his thighs before their weight was on him again—this time, with one naked knee on the wall beside him and their hips angled to grind down against his groin. 

Rodan gasped as Ghidorah started rocking against him. "How do you want—?" 

"I don't know. Any way." 

It suddenly dawned on him—considering what their life had been like, they'd probably never done this before. 

He ripped a gap in their underwear (they tensed and sucked in a sharp breath; he'd thought they'd like that), jerked his own out of the way, grabbed them just above their buttocks, and guided them down onto him. 

They muffled a groan in his hair. He kissed a raw scrape he'd left on their collar bone. "You'll stay?" 

"For you," they said. "Only for you." 

Gingerly, trembling, careful of their wounds, they began rocking together.

**Author's Note:**

> Original post, along with pics of the original handwritten pages, available on [tumblr](https://ckret2.tumblr.com/post/187701245287/let-me-be-your-home-writing-warmup-78).


End file.
